Spotlight
by 15Acesplz
Summary: Martin is the irritable loner who shines on the stage. Jackson is the outgoing optimist who stays behind the scenes. Brought together by mere collision, they form a friendship and perhaps something more. (This is a human AU bases on a Hetalia states RP forum. No canon charries. I repeat, all OCs.) Rated T bc I rate everything T.
1. Chapter 1

In Martin's eyes, the theater was pure bliss. It held a distinct air of enchantment, hard work, and above all, a mountain of promise for someone who was normally so gauche. Here, Martin fit in. And as generations upon generations of teenagers before him had discovered, it felt good to fit in.

The audition had been a cinch; he'd sung to the best of his ability, made his dramatic monologue impressive without seeming ostentatious, and adroitly executed what was possibly the simplest dance routine he'd ever done. It had been no surprise to him that, after the directors had deliberated and the cast list had been posted, he was assigned one of the main roles.

He was ready for this. He strode into the auditorium with a confidence he rarely had, an even rarer smile on his face as he soaked in the familiar sights of the theater. The neophytes were distinguishable by their tendency to stand aimlessly in small clusters until given specific instructions to do otherwise. Everyone else was working like a bee; cast members practicing alone or with friends, and the crew busy with the construction of the set.

Martin took it all in. These were the people he would be collaborating with for the next 3 months. He relished the concept: 100-odd people sacrificing time, effort, and sleep for the sheer entertainment of others. It had just enough depth and healthy cynicism to both awe and amuse him.

"Hey-!"

A voice jerked Martin out of his thoughts, and he was hit by a strange, decidedly unpleasant sensation shortly after. His hand flew to the top of his head and came away sticky. Wet paint, all through his hair and down his left shoulder.

The source of the voice- and, most likely, the paint- was directly above him in a half constructed wooden tower: a bright-eyed blond boy holding a paint tray and wearing an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that. I tried to warn you, but…" He gestured to the dripping paint tray, as though it were that, and not the paint in Martin's hair, that ultimately confirmed the mishap had really occurred.

The boy's easy grin and Southern accent, which might have been charismatic under different circumstance, only proved to infuriate Martin further. "A lot of good that does me now." He snapped, mopping the paint off. He noticed it was white paint- a stark contrast against his coal black hair. Lovely.

The boy's smile faltered as he caught on to Martin's monstrous mood. "I said I was sorry…" He said anxiously. "If you want I can help you clean it up."

"No thank you." Martin said tersely, turning to leave.

"Wait! You haven't even introduced yourself."

"Neither have you." Martin responded swiftly.

He laughed. "Guess you're right. Jackson Lee Houston, at your service!" He declared proudly.

Martin crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Martin. Martin Mashiter." He said flatly.

"Nice ta meetcha!" Jackson chirped.

Martin rolled his eyes; how could anyone be so cheerful about such an inauspicious encounter? "Sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, this paint is drying." He spun on his heel without another word. Something told him it was going to be a long 3 months.

**And so it begins... Just to clarify for those who were unwittingly roped into reading this, there isn't one canon character in this whole story. They are all OCs from a RP forum and Martin (New York) is the only one who belongs to me. Jackson is Texas and he belongs to my dear friend sugarshark.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Marty!"

Martin turned to face what had become one of chief annoyances in his life: Jackson Lee Houston. Everything about him was maddening; his accent, his ridiculous sense of humor, his inability to take anything (particularly Martin) seriously, and most of all, his stubborn Texan pride. It grated on Martin like nothing else. "What did you just call me?"

"Marty." Jackson repeated. "It's a _nickname_. Or do you not have those up North?"

Martin could tell he was joking; the idiotic smile on his face said it all. He just rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to let you know somethang. Well, you know how a roach moves when there's light?"

Martin immediately understood what he was implying, and he didn't like one bit of it. In the theater world, a cockroach was an actor who shied away from the light, the term usually reserved for novices. Martin resented that Jackson would accuse him of something like that. Someone with his level of aptitude always knew exactly where to stand and why.

"Look," he snapped, "I know what you're getting at and let me tell you right now you're wrong."

Jackson put his hands up apologetically. "Okay, okay. I'm just telling you what I see."

"Maybe those glasses need a new prescription." Martin grumbled. "Or maybe you're pointing the light in the wrong direction."

"Will you hear me out?" Jackson sighed, ignoring the jab.

Martin gritted his teeth, knowing Jackson wouldn't leave defeated. "I'm listening."

"I think you might be standing on the wrong tape marking. I mean, nothing bad 'bout that- anyone could do it." Jackson rushed to amend his supplication, seeing the dangerous look on Martin's face. "So maybe check that with the director? I'm only trying to help." His last sentence sounded almost pleading.

"Fine." Martin huffed. "But if I'm right, you'd better check your spotlighting."

"Sure thing!" Jackson grinned. "So, lunch?"

However much Martin hated to admit it, the two of them had fallen into a habit. Jackson approached him once the first half of rehearsal was over, they argued about something, they ate lunch together, and usually argued some more. It wasn't like they were friends, they just really liked arguing. At least, that was what Martin told himself.

"Yeah, let's go." He said.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Jackson started dragging Martin towards the tech booth. "I want ya to meet someone."

The only person in the booth was a short boy with dark hair and glasses. He was massaging his forehead with one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

"Hey, Law!" Jackson said cheerfully. Apparently, he had a nickname for everyone.

The boy – "Law" – opened his eyes. "Hey."

"This is my friend Martin Mashiter!" He announced with a sweeping gesture, as though Martin was a game show prize.

"Lawrence Greene." He responded, sipping his coffee.

"We're not friends." Martin informed him.

"Whaaat?" Jackson protested. "We are friends!"

"Why would I ever be friends with someone as obnoxious as you?" Martin sneered.

Jackson pouted for a second. "You wanna come at lunch with us, Law?"

Lawrence had giving them a calculating stare throughout their quarrel. A sardonic smile spread on his face. "Not-friends who eat lunch together. Right." He quipped. "No thanks, I've got my coffee."

Lawrence was still giving Martin a penetrating look he couldn't (and didn't really want to) decipher. He laughed apprehensively.

"Aww, okay. Next time!" Jackson said confidently. "C'mon, Marty!"

As Jackson prattled on about herding longhorns between bites of food, Martin wondered if Lawrence was right. It had been a while since he made a friend. It wouldn't kill him… and they did already eat lunch together…

"Okay, okay!" Martin burst out, to Jackson's confusion.

"Huh?"

"We can be friends." He conceded.

Jackson's grin was wider than Texas.

**The tsundere is strong, Marty XD Lawrence is Massachusetts. To reiterate he is not mine.**


	3. Chapter 3

"I knew I was right!" As soon as he spotted Jackson, Martin marched up to him, a triumphant smile on his face.

Jackson blinked quizzically. "Huh?"

"I asked the director where I should stand, and he told me I was in the right spot." Martin started. "He even went on the say the light looked-"

"But that's impossible!" Jackson interrupted. "I checked too, and I'm pointing the light exactly where I should be."

"Well, then you'd better double check!" Martin said in a threatening voice.

"Okay, fine! Look, I'm going right now." Jackson capitulated.

Martin followed him to the tech booth, where Lawrence sat as per usual. "Hey." Martin greeted him amicably.

Lawrence smirked. "I heard that you're friends now."

Martin sighed impatiently, while Jackson just grinned. "Yeah, great. We have a problem." He hurriedly explained their disagreement.

Lawrence pondered the situation for a moment. "Which spotlight are you using?" he asked Jackson.

"Spotlight 3. Why?

Lawrence held up a burnt-out light bulb. "It only has half the light it should right now."

"Ohhh…" Jackson breathed.

Martin poked him. "I told you so!"

"Alright, I get it. You stood in the right spot and that makes you the best actor ever." Jackson turned to Lawrence. "Lunch?" he asked hopefully.

Lawrence declined to accompany them, but Jackson's optimism remained untarnished as he chirped, "Next time!" with full confidence.

And so their pattern continued, the ever-changing arguments the only thing that distinguished one day from the next. Martin had thought that a lot would change now that they were officially friends, but it appeared the only thing missing from their relationship had been the title.

The first change occurred a week after the spotlight argument, when Jackson called Martin on a Tuesday afternoon (how he'd procured Martin's phone number was a mystery), frantically begging for help with his math homework. Martin sat on the phone with him for about an hour, attempting to soothe him and explain the concept of factoring. "It's just reverse multiplication of a binomial." He tried.

"I don't know all them scholarly words, Marty!" Jackson wailed. "My test is tomorrow…"

"Jackson, just calm down!" Martin barked. "It's not that hard, just a brain teaser." Eventually, Martin hung up the phone, having been able to instill at least a bit of understanding in Jackson.

He couldn't have been more surprised when, at the next rehearsal, Jackson ran up to him and hugged him. "Thank youuu!"

"What? What for?" He asked, baffled.

Jackson simply gave him a broad smile. "For helping me pass my test. You know, you should help me with math more often. You're really good at it."

Martin allowed himself to smile too. "Sure."

And so their pattern continued.

**I quite like this chapter, even though almost nothing happens.**


	4. Chapter 4

Martin stood on the stage, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The music swelled around him and trailed off. He couldn't help but grin as the lights went out. In that moment, time was suspended and everything surrounding him was pure magic. He felt unstoppable.

Then Martin heard emphatic clapping. The spell was broken; the directors looked up towards the spotlights. Martin didn't even have to. He gritted his teeth and exited the stage.  
>As soon as they were dismissed for lunch, Jackson bound up to him, all smiles. "Encore!"<p>

Martin deftly hit him over the head.

"Ow!" Jackson whined. "What was that for?"

"Why did you clap?" Martin snapped irritably.

"You sang real nice." Jackson stated. He posed in an overblown portrayal of Martin singing, amusement clear on his face.

Martin crossed his arms. "If I recall correctly, the crew is _not_ supposed to clap, in order to avoid drawing attention to themselves."

Jackson just shrugged. "It's just a rehearsal, I don't see why it matters."

"If you can't handle doing what you're supposed to maybe you shouldn't be part of this production." Martin shot back.

"You're so serious about ever'thang!" Jackson griped.

Martin sighed. "Just don't do it again. That was embarrassing."

Jackson perked right back up, beginning his usual interminable stream of chatter. Over the past few weeks, Martin had gotten used to Jackson's frenetic nature. His endless energy was evident in everything he did, from his habitual panics over schoolwork to his persistence in cajoling Lawrence to join them for lunch every week. While it was often tiring, Martin also found it quite endearing.

He also discovered that he was incapable of saying no to Jackson.

His realization was confirmed when Jackson called him on a whim. "You know how to dance, right?"

"Of course, who do you think I am?"

"No, I mean like ballroom dancing." Jackson specified.

"Of _course!_"

"O_kay_." He responded with a laugh.

"Why do you ask?" Martin inquired curiously.

"Teach me how to dance!"

The request completely threw Martin off guard. The idea of them dancing together was preposterous. For one thing, Jackson was a good nine inches taller than him. Martin also doubted his skills as a teacher. But something in him yielded, and he heard himself say, "When do you want me to come over?"

**Forgive me for the filler! The next chapter makes up for it!**


	5. Chapter 5

The music began with a strong violin chord, a lively saxophone coming in shortly after. Martin did his best to follow Jackson's clumsy steps. It would have been much easier if Martin had led; he had the expertise, after all. But Jackson had insisted, earning a fierce glare when he had the gall to mention the sizable height difference.

"1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8…" Jackson chanted under his breath, his eyes fixed on his feet.

"Look at me." Martin instructed.

"What? But I'll mess up!"

"You'll be fine, just look at me. You're supposed to look at your dance partner or the audience. But never your feet."

Jackson barely managed to make eye contact before his feet got hopelessly tangled. "W-woah!"

Before Martin knew what was happening, he discovered first-hand exactly how hard the floor was. "Oof! Okay. Ow."

Jackson smiled apologetically from on top of him. "Sorry…"

Martin grimaced, rubbing his shoulder. "It's fine." He assured him. "You're just learning."

Jackson stood up, helping Martin to his feet. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing. We just need to keep practicing."

And so they practiced, Martin coaching Jackson through the steps and attempting to ease the other's nervousness. Eventually they were able to go through the whole song without incident.

"One last time?" Jackson asked eagerly. "For luck?"

"Okay. Start the song again."

_As I have hoped for half a chance to even ask if I could dance with you…_

Martin suddenly realized that Jackson was actually looking at him instead of focusing on his feet.

_Would you greet me or politely turn away? Would there suddenly be sunshine on a cold and rainy day? Oh, babe, what would you say?_

Martin's breath caught in his chest. He felt…

_For there are you, sweet lollipop, and here am I with such a lot to say…_

This had happened before, Martin reminded himself. During a dance with the star actress, the magic of the theater and the music would leave Martin feeling genuine affection for the girl, making his job as an actor that much easier.

_Just to walk with you along the Milky Way… to caress you in the nighttime, bring you flowers every day, oh, babe, what would you say?_

But, then, this wasn't some girl. This was Jackson, with his sunshine smile and his eyes, blue as the sky, right on Martin. The color of his eyes was enthralling.

_Just so, baby I know, I know I could be so in love with you, and I know that I could make you love me too…_

What was next? The dip, Martin's brain prompted, then the spin.

_And if I could only hear you say you do…_

Jackson pulled Martin into a dip, bringing him back up in an artful spin. They slowed their steps.

_But anyway, what would you say?_

And as Martin gazed into those blue, blue eyes, his heart pulsing wildly in his chest, he didn't know what to think.

**Last chappie from Martin's perspective! :3 The song is Oh Babe What Would You Say by Hurricane Smith and it's the cutest thing ever**


End file.
